


Clouds

by Elevensins



Series: The Farmhouse Collection [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elevensins/pseuds/Elevensins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recovery is a slow process.  A reality Steve has to come to terms with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> For Chaemera on Tumblr. Who inspired this.

Steve found him on the front porch, sitting on the wooden swing and staring out at the morning rain. Above the clouds swirled, blown by a northeastern wind. The forecast called for a couple inches by noon. 

He’d dressed himself that morning, jeans and a flannel shirt with the buttons done all the way up to his throat. One arm had been cut off to fit the cybernetic limb through. They didn't make clothing for guys like him, nothing that fit proper at least. 

Steve joined him there, smiling briefly as blue eyes slid toward him tentatively. Bucky said nothing though, just watched him for a moment before glancing out over the fields again. September meant the corn harvest soon, a bit late after a messy wet spring earlier in the year. Six months they’d spent at the old farmhouse, only leaving once a week for food, supplies and Bucky’s appointments. 

There was improvement, though it was a slow moving process. Bucky’s nightmares eased, the catatonic state he often retreated to became less necessary. Out of the blue Steve found him waking early to help him with morning chores. He even watched out the window one day as Bucky, with a shovel resting against his shoulder, looked down at one of the barn kittens that had gotten loose and run into his boot, bouncing off of it. 

He picked it up gently, held it against his chest and took it back into the barn. 

Everyone warned Steve that the Bucky he knew might never return. But only the Bucky he’d grown up with would have treated a kitten so gently. Not the Winter Soldier.

Steve stretched long legs out, draping an arm over the back of the swing. Bucky, who always seemed to shrink away from people without realizing he was doing so, rested his hand in the spot between them, and mimicked Steve’s posture, one leg propping up on the rail of the front porch. The swing rocked gently with their movements. The rain fell in soft patters, plinking against the roof over their heads. 

Eventually, Steve rose from his seat. There was such an itch to touch him, but he knew better. Bucky’s therapist consulted with Steve as well, and had warned him about such things. No touching, not until Bucky decided he was ready for it. So he clenched his hands briefly and kept them at his sides.

"Buck?" he called, "Bucky, I’m going to make some coffee, did you want some?"

He didn't look at him at first, then his head jerked, as if realizing Steve was talking to him. He turned his head, blinking owlishly. 

"Coffee," Steve repeated, "I’m going to make some coffee. Do you want some?"

Bucky’s gaze turned inward as it always did when asked to make a decision for himself. It took a long time of asking permission, asking him to decide, before he finally realized no one was going to give him orders anymore. No one was going to tell him what to do, where to do it or how to do it. 

Finally he looked up and shook his head. Steve smiled at him, “All right, I’ll be inside if you need me.”

He watched from the door as Bucky sank back against the swing, staring out at overcast skies again. In that moment, he seemed so utterly content that Steve stopped caring about reclaiming the relationship they used to have.

He had Bucky back. And that was all that really mattered.


End file.
